


Victorious Surrender

by gentlezombie



Category: Underworld (Movies)
Genre: Biting, Celebrations, M/M, Or rather lycans, Orgy, Possession, Post-Rise of the Lycans, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 17:16:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15539133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gentlezombie/pseuds/gentlezombie
Summary: Set immediately afterRise of the Lycans. The battle has been won. Now is the time for celebration.





	Victorious Surrender

**Author's Note:**

> This was written years ago, when I first saw the movie. I found the draft recently and decided to polish it up a little and post it, mostly for the benefit of anyone who laments the lack of Lucian/Raze in this fandom like I do. There's also a bit of Lucian with everyone.

A bright and piercing moon rose over the ancient vampire fortress. For centuries its stony mass had shadowed the surrounding lands and chilled the hearts of every warm-blooded creature.

Now everything lay in ruins. The belly of the beast had been cut open, and from its dark depths swarmed up a savage horde. Lycans, once slaves, filled the courtyard and the fine rooms of the keep. They strutted over the gray stones with the confidence of conquerors. All around, work was taking place: defenses were repaired, stores cataloged, every tunnel and secret passage explored.

Lucian seemed to be everywhere at once. He was the one who had a structure in mind, something more lasting than a fevered period of wine and wild celebration, until the next conquering wave would throw them back into darkness. Lucian knew darkness intimately, he’d lived and breathed it since he was born. Still, his mind was a free thing, both a miracle and a curse in a world where everything was immovable, set in stone and made eternal by the slow passing of centuries. He was able to see what could be instead of what was.

Raze wondered how Lucian could ever have abided by the rules of their vampire overlords. He must have observed them, taken in the cold order of their court and thought up other ways of existing. Now his way, the lycan way, was starting to find its shape. From the beginning, Lucian had struck Raze as someone who sank his teeth into challenges and didn’t let go, whatever the obstacles. That was simply who he was. That was why he was where he was now.

Raze watched Lucian’s self-assured stride through the crowd of lycans. He offered quiet reassurance or a word of praise, a casual hand on the shoulder. Raze saw how they all looked at him with worship in their eyes. Their liberator. Their defender and leader long before that. The savior who had bought their freedom with his flesh and blood and the loss of his beloved.

Raze’s insides twisted at the thought. He couldn’t be the only one to see how Lucian had closed off after the final battle, how he refused to even acknowledge his pain over losing Sonja. No one spoke of it. Everyone carried on as Lucian did. There was so much to do. Perhaps it was their way of dealing with loss.

Although born to slavery, Raze had a wife and a child once. He’d been allowed. But things were as easily taken away from a slave as they were given. His family was long dead, now, moved on to a better place. So he had to believe. The grief had paralyzed him. The sense of being utterly alone had eaten him up from the inside. He’d had nothing. He’d been nothing. It had taken him a long time to wake up. Until the night of the werewolf attack, when terror made him realize he wanted to live.

He’d had no pack then. The thought came to him unbidden. It was a wolfish thought, and with it came a sense of security and contentment. He would always watch out for Lucian, as he suspected the whole pack was doing.

As the sky paled from inky blue to violet, work was abandoned in favor of wine and food and celebration. And here, too, everyone’s eyes were on Lucian, fixed on his lithe form as he passed from fire to fire. They weren’t only watching anymore. Hands reached out to touch his bare arms, to sneak around his waist or to stroke the back of his neck. Lucian let them, quietly powerful as he moved from touch to touch, caress to caress. The fire reflected from his eyes, lending them the gleam of passion which had been missing for days. If he didn’t like the way someone was touching him, he would snap at them and push them out of his way. Judging by the joyful barks and the bursts of laughter, the others enjoyed the show.

The atmosphere was thick with released tension and confused elation. None of them knew what freedom was. For now, it was a freedom to take joy in something that was familiar to them: in each other. The smell of lust was heavy in the air. Raze’s nostrils quivered. He shook his head, overwhelmed by the strength of the shared sensation.

He’d seen how things worked with the werewolves, felt it in his newly formed bones. The lycans were creatures of fire and instinct, rage and emotion. They showed physical aggression and affection easily. Often the two were one and the same. For them coupling was fight and play and bite, a way to forge connections between the pack members. This was how it had been for as long as anyone remembered.

Raze recalled what Lucian had said to him when they had barely met. The lycan had been bleeding, shaken and full of quiet fury, yet he’d offered Raze what smile he had left in him. _I will not bite. Much._ The easy and flirtatious words had reassured Raze that perhaps there was a life to be found even in this new kind of servitude. He’d needed that then. Lucian was always good at figuring out the needs of others. 

Around Raze the raucous party was deteriorating further. Playful fights broke out, caresses grew purposeful, kisses turned to bites and fights to fucking. Raze was caught by the same fire, wine singing in his veins and his new senses infecting him with arousal.

His eyes never left Lucian – Lucian who had shed his shirt and was kissing a scarred lycan, hands fisted in matted hair. A bit of blood gleamed at the corner of his mouth as someone had bit too eagerly. As soon as they parted to pant for breath, Lucian was pulled away, to the lap of another lycan. He let go with a laugh. Raze watched the muscles in Lucian’s back work as they ground together, the lycan’s hands large and possessive on his ass. But there was no possessing Lucian. Whatever happened here happened because he deigned to allow it. The awestruck lycans seemed to understand this. Here, on this night, Lucian was almost holy to them.

Raze heard harsh breathing and realized he was panting through his nose. He felt a new kind of jealousy rising – the need to share this primal forging of bonds, the desire to share Lucian who belonged to the pack as surely as the pack belonged to him.

Raze growled as Lucian was pushed to the ground, but when he got to his feet he saw Lucian’s face. The lycan’s lips were reddened and parted, and he was staring up at the paling sky in something like wonder. His expression was open and inviting, full of the honesty which drew people to him. It wasn’t the face of a man who wasn’t exactly where he wanted to be. Perhaps this was his escape.

Lucian was spread out on the ground, held down only by the hands and mouths caressing him. He hissed as his nipples were bitten and toyed with. Sharp teeth marked every inch of revealed skin. He was like a religious figure, a sacrifice to some pagan god as he threw back his head and let the frenzy take over him.

It was amazing and wicked to see Lucian subject himself to this, see him throw himself to the care of these half-animal bodies and minds, to hear his guttural growls… and to see him brush them all aside and stalk towards Raze with purpose. His dark eyes fixed Raze on the spot.

Raze’s throat went dry. No amount of wine helped him to deal with this. Lucian’s lips and nipples looked red and sore, his throat and chest were covered in darkening bruises. He was naked, and his beautiful cock curved hard towards his stomach. This close, his smell was overpowering.

“Are you afraid of me?” Lucian asked with a glint of the old amusement in his eyes. He was not a mystical figure or a grief-stricken shell of a man. He was alive and real and right there.

“No,” Raze ground out desperately and drew Lucian to him by the scruff of his neck.

It was better than he had imagined, Lucian’s strong, lithe body pressed tightly against him, hot lips colliding with his own, teeth breaking skin, testing, marking. Raze ran his hands down Lucian’s back along the raised ridges of the healed scars and let them stay on his ass, pawing and kneading at the flesh as he thrust his hips against Lucian’s.

Lucian’s fingers were stripping him of his clothing. He heard the rip of fabric and the creak of leather, and then they were both naked in the pale light.

Lucian tackled him down – how, Raze wasn’t sure, but he wasn’t about to complain, not with Lucian crouched on top of him, hungry and dangerous. He’d claimed he wasn’t afraid, which was almost true. The remaining threads of fear made him quiver with anticipation. Lucian must have smelled it on him, because the corners of his mouth quirked.

Raze had no hair to grab a hold of, but Lucian forced him to bare his throat by pushing at his chin, his thumb digging into Raze’s pulse-point. Arousal spread through Raze like wildfire as Lucian bit down with his incisors. The pain was sharp and intense, and Raze let out a shout, trashing underneath Lucian. Then there was the smooth, hot pressure of Lucian’s tongue as he lapped at the wounds, soothing and pushing the hurt in at the same time. Raze went hot and cold all over. There could be no question of it now, if there ever had been. He belonged to Lucian.

Lucian’s hand moved to Raze’s cock, slick with spit, and Raze hissed and closed his eyes. He’d already got more than he’d dared to hope for, yet Lucian was still offering more. Lucian’s body was burning like he’d let loose a desperate thing, a spirit of fire and furnaces and slowly smoldering embers burst to flame. A mad grin stole on his face as he stared at Raze’s cock, big and hard in his calloused hands.

“You don’t need to,” Raze said hoarsely, guessing what Lucian wanted and certain that it must hurt. “You can stop.”

Despite the throbbing wound at his throat, Raze hated the thought of Lucian in pain. He’d seen enough of that. But his words had no effect. Lucian had already braced his hands on Raze’s shoulders and was slowly lowering himself on his cock. His brow furrowed as he was breached, but he kept going anyway.

“I can’t stop,” Lucian breathed out as his fingers sought for purchase on sweat-slick skin. “I can never stop.”

Raze didn’t know what he was talking about, didn’t think Lucian himself understood it. Further questions were obliterated as Lucian took all of him in, straddled him with his muscles quivering and his mouth parted. The fading moonlight played tricks on his skin and found droplets of sweat in his dark hair. Though his body was straining, Lucian pushed hair out of his face and began to move, a rhythm as natural as breathing or running. For him, that must be what it was. Raze was the one caught by the new sensations. His hands clamped like a vice on Lucian’s hips, and he bucked up into the welcoming heat, no thought left in his head.

Raze was used to being careful, always mindful of his bulk and strength, yet this whipcord of a lycan was the strongest of their pack. Raze flipped them around, and Lucian growled as his back hit the ground, but he simply buried his fingers in the grass and stone and stared up at Raze with narrowed eyes. That was a command as surely as any words, and Raze fucked into him, letting out growls of his own as he could finally let loose.

Raze had never felt such an urge to possess and to worship. The world narrowed down to the hard ground beneath them, the heat of their bodies, Lucian’s snarled wordless noises as he took what he was given and sought for more. As he came, it was with a howl which shook Raze to his bones. His own pleasure was almost an afterthought, but in the wake of his release, Lucian urged him on, daring him to fuck him with an abandon he didn’t know he was capable of.

There were no words – there might be words later – but the message came across clear enough. _Give me everything, and you will have me_. 

Raze’s own release left him trembling and overwhelmed, trapping Lucian in place with his weight. For a few moments of harsh breathing they pressed their foreheads together, a gesture more affectionate than anything that had come before. Then Lucian pulled him down to a kiss, and the remnants of old wine and other people had faded from his mouth. What was left was the taste of wolf, pine-needles and blood. Raze could have let himself drown in it infinitely.

At last Lucian pushed at his shoulder, and he rolled to the side. Lucian got up with unfair grace and left Raze lying on the ground, giving him a fond look. Then he moved on. A circle had gathered around them at a respectful distance, which for lycans wasn’t very far at all. Lucian let them pull him in, leaves in his hair, two hand-shaped bruises on his skin.

He got fucked and fucked others that night, many times over, but he had come to Raze first.

In the years that followed, Raze was always the first.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
